


Polar Opposites

by LeviathanDee



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Feels, Fluff, Mother-Son Relationship, Pre-Canon, Sibling Rivalry, Twins, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26813377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviathanDee/pseuds/LeviathanDee
Summary: Watching the combating twins whack each other over minuscule things, Eva and Sparda ponder their childrens' demonic blood, and the men they would eventually become.(This is a work created for DMC Week 2020, Day 1, using the prompts "blood" and "weapon").
Relationships: Eva/Sparda (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Polar Opposites

An exasperated sigh left the honey blonde woman, her lashes fluttering shut at the sight of the impulsive twins combating in the greenery. She clasped her husband’s hand around her fingers, coiling their digits together in a comforting motion. The silver haired man simply eyed his beloved, his nonchalant gaze morphing into one of puzzlement and worry.

“Eva? Is something wrong, my love?” Bringing their entangled fingers to his lips, he placed tentative pecks upon his wife’s knuckles, earning him a pleased hum from the woman. Her expression, however, stayed drained.

“It’s just… They’re fighting again,” Eva exhaled once more, keeping her eyes on the bickering brothers in the distance, “tell me, Sparda. Will this ever end?”

The silver haired man, the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda, chuckled. It appeared as though the sound was bereft of any amusement, seeming more forlorn, perhaps even bitter.

“Their nature  _ demands it _ . The blood that pulses within their veins  _ demands it _ .”

“I know- I just want them to get along.” She lamented the situation, continuously watching the two arctic silver haired boys whack each other with wooden swords. No matter how many times she reprimanded the two, they never listened.

“They will grow out of it, my love. If I know humans well enough, all boys of this age rebel against one another.” Sparda inched his frame closer to the woman, coiling his arm around her waist, drawing the couple closer together. They breathed each other’s scent, basking in the warmth. Placing her head upon the man’s shoulder, she continued to ponder the predicament.

“You  _ do  _ know us well enough. But... They’re twins, yet they act as if they are polar opposites.”

And it was true. Dante was a tempestuous child, leveling all stillness in his surroundings. He would grab any object that would be sufficient as a weapon, only to whack the everloving spirit out of anything that got in his way. The boy barely slept, perpetually energy filled, picking fights at any given moment. It was as if his addiction to adrenaline was insatiable. Although it was endearing, his constant joy and fervour for life colouring the air, it was definitely exhausting to his mother, Eva.

Whereas Vergil was a gentle creature. He was delicate, keeping to himself most of the time. The boy would cradle a novel with all the tenderness he could muster, scanning each word upon the page lovingly. He enjoyed the serenity of life, and preferred a confrontation-free day, as opposed to his brother’s persistent need for chaos.

Though they were twins, they contradicted that notion with every breath they would take. Fighting was the kind of joint activity Dante and Vergil were good at; The only kind of brotherhood they would participate in. Admittedly, it made Sparda proud. His sons had fighting spirits. Their demon blood flowed with a passion for battle, the same kind of passion that helped Sparda defeat Mundus two thousand years ago.

An abrupt memory stormed at the Dark Knight, flashbacks of his fights, and the tumultuous war between humanity and the netherworld. His human form began to sweat, a strange sensation of nausea rising within his belly. It wasn’t often he felt anxious, though the thought of his family perishing under the thumb of Hell would override any confidence he possessed.

_ He loved them too much. _

“Eva… Listen. I have withheld this for far too long. I possess two artefacts. Two weapons, only meant for those who would protect the sanctity of our worldly barriers. To protect the human realm from dictatorship of the underworld.” Raising her heavy head from her husband’s shoulder, she eyed the man questioningly. She seemed to digest the information, noting what he meant wholeheartedly.

“Honey, you don’t mean to give them to the boys now, do you?”

“No. Only when they are ready. Although… Perhaps I may show them their future gifts now, my love?”

Brushing a golden unruly lock away from Eva’s cheek, he placed an amorous peck on the corner of her lips protectively, perhaps even a tad bit possessively. She embraced the warm feeling nevertheless.

“Of course. There is no need to ask permission of me. They’re your sons too, Sparda.” The woman nodded, her hair continuing to cascade down to her cheeks, earning her a boyish giggle from her husband.

Sparda sighed before unravelling himself from his beloved, already missing the tenderness of her frame. He stood to observe his battling sons. The two sparred in the shrubs, the sounds of rustling leaves and youthful grunts echoing in the garden. It was surprising at how well their demon blood healed their injuries. The only signs of the skirmish between the two ended up being the leftover sanguine that stained countless shirts. In fact, Eva began purchasing darker clothes for the boys, knowing full well that they would proceed to bleed each other whenever their tempers would allow it.

Seconds passed, Vergil ended the physical altercation with a swing to Dante’s legs, swooping him into the air. Dante less-than gracefully landed amongst the grass, giggling joyously at the change in direction, from vertical to horizontal. To the parents’ surprise, the twins had their fill of bickering for today. The elder twin approached his parents with a victorious smirk tugging at his lips, a trickle of crimson leaving his left nostril. Bouncing to his feet, Dante sprinted close behind.

Whilst Eva sighed dejectedly, Sparda naturally smiled.

“My sons! Come hither. Come, come.” As the father beckoned the twins, they coiled their arms around his legs, glueing themselves to his frame in a playful manner. Dante’s giggles alleviated all tension and exhaustion Eva felt, his jovial attitude giving her reason to be happy again. Vergil, albeit being the calmer, older brother, snickered mischievously alongside Dante.

“Ahh, my boys have turned to barnacles.” Sparda did not push the youths off, instead walking to his destination inside the manor, with the boys holding on for dear life on his limbs. The mossy colour in the woman’s eyes returned to its full lustrous blaze, watching her three goof-balls interact. It seemed as though her love for her family bloomed brighter than before. She let out a content sigh, before following the sprightly bunch of white hairs.

Moments later, they entered the manor, a warm smell of baked pastries blanketing their senses. Scents of cinnamon, and strawberry began to drift with the draft, the boy’s stomachs rumbling in retaliation. Dante tugged pleadingly at Eva’s scarlet shawl, alongside her heartstrings. Vergil simply stared up at the woman, his puppy-eyed stare finally breaking her defenses.

“Fine, fine. I’ll make some tea with the strawberry turnovers and cinnamon buns. Behave, don’t give your father any trouble.” Eva placed an ardent smooch on her husband’s jaw, barely able to reach his face from the sheer height he possessed. Sparda chuckled at the attempt, lowering himself to let her kiss him proper. The boys cringed at the display, letting out a collective drawl of ‘ _ eeew’s,  _ before their mother ruffled their silver hair beneath her palm.

As the gentle woman left to prepare the desserts, the three proceeded upstairs. Although the manor was an overwhelming size for four people, there was only one rarely frequented room. Standing before a mahogany door, Sparda pressed his palm against the lacquered handle, turning the metal as it laboriously whined at the sudden use. Swinging the door open, inches of undisturbed dust suddenly whafted into the air, a stale smell rising within the room. The family entered hesitantly, with Dante and Vergil still holding onto their father’s legs.

It was lowly lit, the windows obscured by thick, ochre curtains. A singular chest, spanning two metres in width, stood beside a tall mirror. It was ominous to say the least, with these objects being the only things to stand in the empty room. Curiosity seemed to override the twins, letting their father’s hostage legs go. They both approached the strange furniture.

Behind them, Sparda crouched to level his gaze with theirs, before beckoning them over to grasp their shoulders in unison.

“Dante, Vergil. My precious sons. There will come a time when you will grow into two strong men. Two powerful protectors. It is imperative that you understand this. That your existence is far more important than you realise.” Pausing his speech, the man brushed a ruffle of snowy locks away from Dante’s brow to see his flint eyes more clearly.

“You are the symbols of an unlikely union. You are proof that Hell and Earth can coexist in harmony.” Sparda continued, gently cradling Vergil’s chin to better see his son’s features.

“You understand this, yes?” The question was meant as less of a query, and more of a reassurance that Sparda was doing the right thing. He needed to know that the boys will grow up together. That they will sustain the peace that was so lovingly upheld by Sparda. The two nodded simultaneously, alleviating the rising tension their father felt.

“Good. Now. Where were we?”

Effortlessly, Sparda stood from his crouch, towering over the boys. He drifted towards the large chest that held his two prized artefacts. Surprisingly, the twins kept quiet. Usually, when their father wanted to show them something, they both bickered to draw his attention. It was cute, albeit slightly exhausting at times. Nevertheless, Sparda continued to the chest.

Placing a hesitant finger upon the lock, he traced the bronze embellishments, gliding his fingertips across the fleur de lis pattern. Moments of simply enjoying the handiwork, he drew a small, helix shaped key, sliding it into the lock with a buttery smooth movement. It opened with a pleasant click.

The twins inched towards their father, standing either side, clutching onto his shoulders so they could view the contents of the chest more closely. Almost with an aching slowness, the box opened its maw, gaping open to reveal two magnificent works of demonic smithing.

“These, my dear boys, are Devil Arms. They hold immense power I once possessed. I believe it is necessary to share my power with you, so you could too protect this realm.”

As Sparda explained the contents of the box, he grasped the two weapons, one in each hand, to pass them to the twins.

“This is the Rebellion, Dante. It is a blade of fine craftsmanship. The claymore holds powers of unification, and subjugation of demonic forces. I believe it would fit you quite well, my dear boy.” Dante’s eyes glistened with wonder, the oceans of silver going feral over the sight of such a grandiose masterpiece. The metal seemed to gleam in the dark, reflecting what little light the ochre curtains let escape through the fabric. Tentatively, the boy traced his fingers over the designs, poking curiously at the enraged skull that sat upon the hilt. It was apparent that Dante would struggle to hold the claymore, so Sparda propped the blade on the wall, letting his son examine the weapon further.

“And this, Vergil, is the Yamato. It is a powerful odachi, that possesses the ability to separate the demonic realms from humanity. Believe it or not, the Yamato helped me defeat the Prince of Darkness, Mundus. It will be yours, when the time comes.” Vergil’s eyes mirrored that of Dante’s, blazing with a fervent curiosity. The youth’s fingers gently laced around the scabbard, as well as the sheath, a pure smile spreading across his lips. The Yamato held elegant designs, dragon motifs embellished on the endpoint of the hilt, bronze colouring each pattern.

“They will be yours when the time comes. You will uphold the peace, and protect all that you hold dear. For now, however, it is imperative that you fight  _ together _ . Not against one another. You are brothers, and shall be brothers-in-arms if need be.” Reaching out to the twins, Sparda placed his palms on their cheeks, noticing the congealed blood that sat upon their skin from the previous brawl. He squeezed the skin on their faces lovingly, earning him a gentle giggle from the sons. Sparda continued to examine their faces with pure adoration. The union of Eva’s and Sparda’s features danced bewitchingly on the boys’ faces, an alliance of humanity and demon-kind.

“Is that clear?” Sparda’s assertive tone caused the twins to stand to attention, Vergil answering first, and Dante second.

“Yes, papa.”

“Sure thing dad!”

Sparda stood to his feet, once again towering over the two minuscule boys, moving towards the body-length mirror. The twins moved with him, standing either side of the man, grasping onto the violet corduroy fabric of his trousers. Sparda veered his gaze towards his reflection. He viewed the display before him, the twins watching their father with wide-eyed awe.

How much his love for the polar opposites bloomed throughout his chest, he could barely describe. These innocent youths, watching their reflections with such pure, ardent love, reflected all that Sparda fought for. It was this love that morphed the Dark Knight’s opinion on humanity, and his awakening to justice.

Though they fought with passion, they were more alike than they wanted to admit. It was a similarity past appearances. Of course, their features, hair, the colour of their eyes, and their bodies looked identical. However, their reactions to outside stimulus, as well as conflict, were where the similarities turned even more damningly alike.

Sparda exhaled, ruffling the twins’ hair adoringly. Perhaps with time, they would accept their brotherhood as part of their blood.

A resounding, gentle clearing of the throat interrupted the three, causing all to turn their heads like meerkats. Eva stood in the doorway, the delicate smell of roses wafting in, alongside the scent of ready baked pastries and tea.

“Boys, tea is ready. The desserts are prepared too. Go, shoo, before the tea cools,” as her sons ran past, her fingers brushed against their hair, enjoying the feeling of silky locks, “so… How did it go? Did they fight over their gifts?” Eva watched as the twins ran in unison, surprised at their sudden tenderness to each others’ presence. Not pushing; Simply letting each other pass, running alongside the railing of the manor. They appeared to  _ tolerate  _ one another… for now.

“Not at all. They’re more mature than you give them credit for, my love.” A soft silence engulfed the chamber, the dust settling once again upon each surface. Sparda wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist as he continued with his report of reassurance.

“They may be polar opposites, but they are _ twins _ . Whatever the future brings, they will grow up to be fine men.” It was a short exhale that left Eva’s lungs. An exhale of contentment, rather than exasperation. She returned the embrace warmly, keeping her arms on his chest, feeling his proudly beating heart pound with adoration against her palm.

It was this moment she understood that her sons were in the hands of a capable man, albeit his demonic origins. His aristocratic behaviour, and ability to subdue the stormy nature of the twins always impressed her. If Sparda said that Dante and Vergil will grow into two, fine, protectors of the realm, that's what they will become. No matter how contradictory their nature was, and how feverishly they battled against one another, they would join to defeat a common foe.

As long as Sparda was beside them, all would be ok.

The young woman cradled her husband’s jaw, drawing him closer to her visage. Before gazing at him with her mossy eyes, she scrunched her nose to brush it against his own. The motion naturally caused Sparda to chuckle. As the two of them basked in each other’s presence, the cacophony of bickering twins bounced from the dining room.

“That bun is  _ MINE! _ ” Vergil’s venomous tone was to be reckoned with.

“URGH! You had five! Not fair!” The retaliating voice boomed from Dante, followed by a thunderous whack and a pained groan from his elder brother. It seemed as though the moment of brotherhood had gone and passed. Eva facepalmed.

“They will be fine.” With Sparda snorting at the sounds from downstairs, he placed his chin on Eva’s collarbone, nuzzling close. Instinctively, her delicate fingers ran through his hair, drawing him closer to her neck. She smiled, knowing full well that all was going to turn out alright.

“I hope you’re right, honey. I hope you’re right...”


End file.
